Even if temperatures are cool bordering on cold, a sunny day brings the turtles out en masse. Any perch above the water becomes a turtle logjam.

The species can be quite diverse, from softshells to cooters to sliders to anything else that finds room.

And when there’s no more room on the log, there’s always room to climb atop another turtle.

Everyone gets along if everyone gets some sunshine.

And if you’re lucky, you can find synchronized sunning like this pair, both of whom have their back legs stretched out and their heads held up.

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos:

[1] A pallid spiny softshell turtle (Apalone spinifera pallida) on the right end of the log with red-eared sliders (Trachemys scripta elegans) and river cooters (Pseudemys sp. or spp.).

[2] A crop of the first image, hence the poor quality. Shows a better view of the pallid spiny softshell turtle and some of the red-eared sliders; the turtle nearest the softshell might be a river cooter (Pseudemys sp.).

[3] A pallid spiny softshell turtle on the left, one obvious red-eared slider atop another turtle, and what could be either red-eared sliders or river cooters.

[4] A Texas river cooter (Pseudemys texana) on the right, an eastern river cooter (Pseudemys concinna) in the middle and a red-eared slider on the left. Also note the red-eared slider in the lower-left corner of the frame. (The water and turtles are covered with duckweed.)

[5] A baby red-eared slider resting atop an adult.

Note that differentiating the eastern river cooter from the Texas river cooter can be impossible without a clear view of the head pattern and shell pattern, and even then variability can lead to poor identifications. Red-eared sliders can be confused with either species if the red patches are not visible.

Some male red-eared sliders become melanistic as they grow older; this causes their skin to lose all colors except green and the green becomes darker as they age, hence they can be difficult to identify from a distance (see the first photo in this post for an example where the “red ears” have been reduced to negligible red spots and all the yellow has been lost).

The hope of any generation lies in that which follows. It has nothing to do with today, nothing to do with us; it has everything to do with what comes after.

Even as its parent watches me closely, a juvenile monk parakeet (a.k.a. quaker parrot; Myiopsitta monachus) begs for attention, for a nibble of nourishment. Within that fledgling rests promise for a parent who may never see its child again.

Only a few steps from the footpath where so many people busy themselves without seeing it, this female river cooter (Pseudemys concinna) digs her nest and prepares to lay her eggs. A bower formed of trees and brush gives her cover, keeps her from all but the observant.

How I want to wait, to watch, to salve my soul with the beauty of her work. But the longer I stand, the more people who become curious. Hungry eyes fall on her, look in her direction.

So before the first egg rests in earthen slumber, I walk away. Several minutes I spend some distance along the trail so I can watch, feel certain no one returns.

The mother-to-be watches me closely as I retreat. Her task set before her, she will never realize the success or failure of her endeavor, instead burying within the soil her own impetus to survive and leaving the future to the whims of nature.

Cliff swallows (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota) build their clay nests in every corner beneath the roof of a concrete pavilion.

Parents flit in and out of the structure, each returning to a nest with food, then checking the nest to ensure it’s clean and free of danger. A face looks out at me, an adult watching me as it tends to its children.

I see tiny faces and beaks agape when diligent parents return with food. Looking at me with consternation for my nearness, one makes clear my presence is an unwelcome concern when the future is at stake.

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Consider this a quick smack upon the brow of Saturday’s journey to the family farm.

While there, we visited a neighbor (in the rural sense, meaning someone quite a distance away). Her grandson has saved some local wildlife from certain doom (one having been found while “mowing the yard” and subsequently having been rescued).

Keep in mind the farm rests quite near the bayou. That remains the single most important reason so much wildlife thrives in the area: the availability and accessibility of a major, natural, fresh water system.

Anyway, here’s what we found while helping out a local friend.

Three of these were rescued. This one, I think, is a male (having seen its tail in detail, although I might be wrong).

The method I used to differentiate it from its two siblings doesn’t apply given the clarification on the species. Its gender therefore remains a mystery. But when you’re that cute, does it really matter?

No matter the similarities and regional occupancy, I believe this to be a western painted turtle (Chrysemys picta belli).

As Sven pointed out, this is actually a “hatchling river cooter (Pseudemys concinna).” I don’t know how I missed that species while trying to identify the little rascal.

While East Texas is well outside its normal range (so far as I can tell), this tiny master of curiosity resembles only one species of this reptile. The others (eastern, midland, and southern) all fail to describe its marvelous coloring and style.

It does resemble the western painted turtle. But closer inspection and comparison with photos of the river cooter make clear Sven’s da man for knowing his reptiles.

That’s my hand it’s resting upon. But resting doesn’t describe it, methinks, for this turtle spent the entire time in my grip by marching about looking for the best vantage point. Each time it reached the edge of my skin, it stopped, lifted its head to look about, and consumed with minuscule eyes all that could be seen.

That one should give you a bit of scale. Remember that’s my hand. To call this creature petite would be to understate things, at least in human terms.

But curious? Indeed! I’d call it that with even the simplest of comparisons with the word. All he wanted to do was get into position to look, to observe.

The fourth discovery, the one saved from the mower, was this three-toed box turtle (Terrapene carolina triunguis).

While I didn’t capture any presentable images other than this one, you need only look at the larger version of that picture to appreciate its size. The largest picture shows the depth of what it’s eating. That’s a piece of lettuce. Look at the leaf’s thickness in comparison to the turtle’s head if you want to fully appreciate how small it was.

[Update] I modified a few bits based on Sven’s comments. See, I only read the brochure but that didn’t make me an expert! I’m always happy for someone to give the real answers if they have them. And now you see why nature is a hobby and not a career; I’d be dirt poor!

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a life in progress

About Me

My name is Jason M Hogle. I'm a friend, son, brother, writer, photographer, scientist, naturalist, mathematician, conservationist, poet, technology nut, and many other things. I consider myself a Renaissance man. I have a passion for learning. I also have a passion for living. What you see here is who I am, from my triumphs to my tribulations and everything that fills the space betwixt the two. If you're still curious, read more about me.

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